


The Basilisk's Predicament

by phooykazooi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts is Alive (sorta), Isolation, Magic, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Parseltongue, Suicidal Ideation, but it's a little tho, i made this when I was 13 yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:58:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8318296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phooykazooi/pseuds/phooykazooi
Summary: Something goes wrong in the Chamber of Secrets. Instead of allowing Harry to kill the basilisk, Hogwarts saves it. Unfortunately, the only way to save it is to make it human. How is a basilisk to survive its new life and Voldemort?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter does not belong to me. It is a wonderful masterpiece of J.K. Rowling.
> 
> RETURNING READERS: THIS IS CHAPTERS 1-3. IF YOU ARE A RETURNING READER, GO TO THE NEXT CHAPTER.
> 
> NEW READERS: Enjoy!
> 
> Also, please forgive me for this monstrosity; I wrote it when I was, like, thirteen and I honestly don't know if I'll get around to editing it or anything. It's kind of...well, it was written by someone just out of their preteens, so there's a lot of shit in it that I don't like. :x
> 
> Lmao

Hogwarts' magic boils around the basilisk, trying to break the connection between herself and the broken soul. She wraps around the ropes tethering her angrily, pulling desperately at them. She attempts to reach the colorless, fragmented soul, but the soul is hiding behind another wizard, using the girl's bright essence as a shield. Hogwarts loathes to harm another, most especially one so pure. But if the events continue as they are, Tom Riddle will absorb the girl's soul into himself. He mostly has. If Hogwarts must go through the girl to stop him, she will.

Meanwhile, the basilisk is mindless, doing as ordered by the light wizard. She feels no sympathy for the dying girl, no hate at the demented, broken magic caster, nor anger at the hatchling. She simply does as she is told.

Eventually, the boy impales her with a sword that smells like oil. It misses her brain only because Hogwarts deflects it. She would have liked to knock the damn thing out of the boy's hand, she detachedly senses, but couldn't because the sword has an incredibly high tolerance to magic of any sort. The basilisk howls in pain, finally, _finally_ cut from his hold because of the agony of the weapon. Hogwarts does her level best to soothe her, numb the pain, but most of her attention is on Riddle, nudging Weasley softly, reassuringly, endeavoring to make way around her and _attack, punish, get him away from the children!_

The basilisk retreats to her chilly pool, away from the smelly blade and the _wrong wrong_ soul, hating she cannot see, elated that she can think again and terrified because she knows she is dying. She cannot close her mouth and it hurts too much to wrap her flexible tongue around the blade protruding through her skull. The magic Hogwarts has attached to her cannot extract the blade. She cannot grip Gryffindor's sword and does not know why since she veered the weapon off its course before so why can't she now?

The basilisk becomes numb to the water and the scents in the air have become dull and bland. Her hearing is dimming too and _she knows she's dying._

But Hogwarts won't have it.

She completely detaches from Riddle and congeals around the giant snake, pouring all the magic she can into every pore, every opening, and coaxes her cells into mutating. The basilisk doesn't know what she is doing, all she knows is _pain_ and she moans for Hogwarts to help. But the school is too busy to ease her suffering.

She sends her to sleep, because that is the best way to stop the torment that is going to save her.

When she comes to, her body is aching, but the sensation is distant. She is warm, a different sort of warm than simply sunning (when she was free with Salazar and could feel the sunlight, that is), like the warmth is from _her_ even though she knows she cannot make her own heat. The next thing she realizes is that _every single one_ of her senses have diminished (barring her eyesight; she's kind of frightened to open her eyes anyway). She takes a long, experimental breath, and discovers, yes, she can hardly tell the difference from one scent to another (she ignores how _off_ the movement feels, deciding to find out _why_ later). She tries her tongue, which is better at distinguishing scents anyway, and is confused when it does not reach its maximum length. It feels heavy, too, and she cannot flex it as she could before. It does not bring any scents back.

She twitches, and nearly faints from panic when she feels she has _limbs._ Hogwarts knows she's awake now and calms her. She saved her, she learns. But her body was too damaged, the wound nicked her brain, so she decided to "screw it" and made a new body from the materials all living things share.

She wants her to be calm.

"Calm?" She hisses back, angry that the sound is no longer as sinister as it once was, and how slurred the words are. "How can I be calm? _You changed my body!"_

It's because she would have died.

"So? At least I'd have-!"

But something stops her. Magic, so powerful it is black, is flickering through her blinded eyes (she now notices that there is a fabric, tight and snug, covering her shredded eyes) and dancing across her skin in an almost curious manner.

She learns from Hogwarts that it is the headmaster. That he can be trusted.

She seriously doubts that.

She desperately wants to up and slither away, but she knows she would probably fall over before she left the cushion she was placed upon. Also, she cannot slither anymore, she must walk or crawl, but she can't, so she tenses, trying not to move _at all_ because it is _so_ unnerving having four different things to control, not to mention the trembling fingers she once envied. Now, though, she would give almost anything for her true serpentine body.

The headmaster is an old wizard who walks with the slow pace of pained joints, but his age does not show through his magic. It is merry, touching everything around the human and pulsating with his slow, steady heartbeat. The basilisk's slightly bleached magic gathers about her protectively, and snaps at the man's curious, darker aura. The wizard's magic gets the message and withdraws, but it quivers toward her and she knows it wants to wrap around her and sense if she is a threat.  


Usually, her magic pools around her eyes, ready to pluck the life from any fool thing looking at them. But she can't use her eyes even though her magic is gathered there, trying to repair the damage. Not to mention the fact that her _entire freaking body has changed_ and she has virtually no other way to protect herself.

Her slightly light magic still blanketed securely and tightly around her, Hogwarts easily slips her own magic through her defenses. She vibrates with amusement, curling teasingly over her vulnerable skin. Her magic ignores her, knowing it can't really do anything about it. She hisses at her. She pokes her temple.

The headmaster speaks, but the basilisk cannot understand him, so she doesn't reply. For at least a minute, the wizard quietly talks. Annoyed, the basilisk hisses, "I cannot understand you, foolish old man." Hogwarts likes the "foolish old man" and pokes her temple again, a bit harder. She lifts her lip at her.

The man pauses, and says something else, in a tone that Salazar often used when she was saying something rhetoric. Finally, he leaves.

Only to come back, five minutes later, the boy who almost killed the King of Snakes trailing fearfully behind him.  


In those five minutes, the basilisk was beginning to feel quite drowsy. She had burrowed, rather comfortable, into the warm blankets and was beginning to doze off. She trusted the castle to protect her, or at least warn her if the humans spontaneously decide they do not like an ex-basilisk lounging on their bed and attempt to kill her.

At first, she believes the old man came back by himself, but she now sees that some of the old wizard's magic is covering the hatchling's tiny presence. From what she glimpses, the boy's magic is blue, like the sky (well, what she _thinks_ she remembers of the sky; the last time she was outside of the castle, she was a hatchling herself, nearly a thousand years ago. Salazar was with her then and teaching her the ways of the outside world. Secretly, of course), like all the other hatchlings in this school. She won't be able to get a proper look at the boy's power unless the headmaster leaves, however.

There was a short conversation between the two. Shyly and a bit nervously, the hatchling hisses, "Hello. My name is Harry."

The ex-basilisk would have blinked if she could move her eyes. "A Parselmouth?" she hissed back, drowsily. "I have met none but Salazar and that boy."

"You've _met_ Salazar Slytherin?"

"He hatched me, boy. Fathered and protected me." She let out a bitter, low laugh. "Then the others turned against him, locked me away, and ran him out of the grounds." She's thankful Hogwarts put her in deep slumber for the millennium she has been alive, waking only on the brink of starvation. Then the school would conjure a few animals, enough to placate her, then put her back to sleep. A shame she is so old but has been awake only a fangful…

Before she could get lost in the memories, she hisses, "Where am I?"

"In the infirmary. You've been here for a week. Your eyes-when-we had to bring you back, but don't know if your eyes will still…"

"Kill?" The basilisk completed the sentence for him. She does not know if the boy nods, so she asks Hogwarts, "Will they?"

The school knows she is speaking to her. No, they won't. His magic is unhappy at that, but she calms it before it strikes out.

"They won't."

"Professor, she says her eyes won't-"

Amused, she interrupts, "You're still speaking Parseltounge."

Embarrassed, he says, "Oh. Pro-" He stops and tries again. It comes out in ….whatever strange language he is speaking in. They converse, and in that time, Hogwarts considers the conversation over and is subtlety easing her to sleep. The ex-basilisk does not resist. She doesn't really notice, anyway. Soon, the boy says something to her, but she is too tired to notice. With Hogwarts humming quietly around her, she falls into something similar to the healing slumber Godric and the boy with white magic put her in.

* * *

* * *

The next time she wakes, there's something in her throat and blocking her nose. Her face tightens oddly, mostly her brows, and she realizes she's frowning. She breathes slowly through her nostrils and the thing _moves._ Growing alarmed, she takes another breath.

Hogwarts notices she's awake. She placates her and she learns the nurse here, the mediwitch, has been forced to revert to Muggle means to feed and hydrate her (she only knows what the term "Muggle" means because Salazar complained so often about them). Her protective magic attacked any spells or charms she placed on her (her magic preened). She advises her not to remove the tube, even though it is uncomfortable. She will be sleeping again soon anyway. Besides, this is usually when she will change her bandages.

She grumbles but does as she wishes, excited at the prospect of seeing things that aren't magic.

A witch's aura gathers her attention. The majority of the color is deep red, splotched with purple so dark it is nearly black. The mediwitch, then. She wonders if she should get her attention, since she's awake. She chooses not to.

She still has the bandages around her head, covering her eyes, but she doesn't mind. She can live with being blind (hopefully, though, she won't have to). She uncurls herself from the ball she slept in, and gropes around the bedding she was placed on. Her right arm hits a wire. She gasps, the _thing_ in her throat jolting forward and she feels it in her nose, too, following the sudden movement. She understands this wire is the same thing snaking through her nostrils and down her throat, feeding and watering her. Carefully, she follows the tube, touching it lightly as she can, but most times she misses or connects too hard and pulls by accident.

Soon, her exploring hand meets a bag suspended in midair. She wonders how she is being sustained by water. Hogwarts tells her it's not _all_ water, that the minerals she needs to survive are liquified. She still does not completely understand and she tells her to explain better. Patiently, she does. Apparently, there are ...things in the food she eats, and it gives her energy. That energy lets her do other things, like slither and produce poison. This bag contains all the things found in the food she was able to give her, and more, healthier things she couldn't reach from the forest. Interesting. She wants to find out more, but not even Hogwarts knows everything.

She suggests she focus on learning how to control her hands and arms before she tries walking. She considers it but disagrees. The sooner she learns to walk, the sooner she can explore.

However, the mediwitch notices she is awake. She hears her exclamation (and she is pleased her hearing is still as sharp as before), and she strides to her bed, speaking in a language she cannot comprehend. She tenses when she realizes she is coming directly to her, clenching her fists apprehensively. The woman reaches her bed space and her magic senses her extend a hand to her. It condenses angrily and the basilisk has to hold it back from burning her. She lightly touches her bandage, and she presses her lips together to keep from baring her teeth. Hogwarts insists she's to be trusted, and is going to remove the bandages, but won't if she misbehaves.

At this, she puts an effort in being still, her heart thrumming.

The woman finds the end of the bandages and begins to unwind it. It takes several long seconds, but soon, she can see the dark retreating, driven away by a brightness she must squint painfully at. When the coverings are gone, she is forced to close her eyes, grimacing, at the pain the world happily gives her. Her magic, completely disregarding the witch, is swirling about her playfully in response to her nervousness. Hogwarts suddenly warns her that Dumbledore is coming, alerted by Poppy, the mediwitch. She wonders how she told the headmaster of her awakening so quickly.

The woman has grown silent, which she is thankful for. It takes a while, she doesn't know how long, but she manages to open her eyes. What she sees isn't much.

Everything is blurry, almost like there's a film of white covering the world. Poppy is speaking again, but she ignores her. Confused, she slowly brings a hand to her face (managing _not_ to slap herself), trying to discern it from the otherwise white background. She can, but only when it is inches from her wounded eyes. She splays her fingers, pleased when she can differentiate the space between them.

Dark, powerful magic flickers at the corner of her vision, a much deeper black than what she could make out from beneath the cloth. It is also _longer;_ tendrils reach as high as the ceiling, thin and twisting and some reach into the room she is in, even though the headmaster hasn't yet entered. She wonders if the boy is with him.

When Dumbledore enters the room, his magic is drawn to the ex-basilisk, but the basilisk's magic snaps at it, joy forgotten. Again, the man's magic understands and avoids her, but, like before, she knows it wants to garner all the intentions it can from her. Harry is with him, but he is obscured by the man's massive presence.

Immediately, Harry greets her. "Good evening. How are your eyes?"

The basilisk glances at the general direction of his voice, but the boy is hidden by white and twisting, dark magic. "They have been better."

"Can you see at least?"

My, the boy is more confident now. Her brows free, they raise, imitating an expression Salazar would sometimes use. "Not very well. Everything is white."

Harry relays what she says to the mediwitch. When she responds, Harry translates. "She says she wants you to follow her finger."

Obediently, she lowers her hand. A shape looms darkly from the colorless void. She squints, trying to follow as it moves slowly back and forth. "Why would this help?"

"It does not," the boy hisses in reply. He backtracks. "Well, I mean, it determines how well your eyes are progressing, how much you can see and track."

The ex-basilisk makes an understanding sound. "And how well am I progressing?"

At this, the boy converses with the nurse.

During this, her eyes are becoming strained. There is a pressure behind them, so she brings her hands up to rub them. Poppy grabs them, and speaks harshly at her. The basilisk's magic boils at her insolence, and it wants to bite at her fingers, to poison them. With an effort, she holds it back, but she says, strangled, "Let go!" pulling urgently.

She releases her, as though she was burned, at her cry. She crawls backward, her back hitting the headboard of the bed, hard enough to hurt. She hopes she didn't harm her, does not want to be locked away again, but _like hell_ she's going to apologize!

The humans talk amongst themselves tensely, while the basilisk calms her panicked magic. Hogwarts flows about her like cool water, helping to calm it as well. Sheepish but stubborn, her magic does not feel ashamed for trying to protect its container from harm.

"Madam Pomfrey says she is sorry," Harry hisses worriedly. "Are you injured?"

"No," the ex-basilisk replies. She tries to make her hiss as gentle and unaggressive as she can. "My magic--it thought I was under attack. Is she harmed?"

"No, simply surprised."

To ward away any questions--and change the subject--she inquires, "Why can I not rub my eyes?"

"Um, prof-" he catches himself and translates the question. "She says it will make your eyes worse."

The basilisk frowns, narrowing her eyes questioningly. "How?"

"Um, your eyes-they are still wounded. It has healed almost completely, but if you rub them, it may reopen the wounds. They might not heal properly."

"Hm."

She can feel sleep coming. Hogwarts does not need to aide it this time, and she is displeasured by that fact. "You have questions?" She inquires. "You'd best ask them; I am beginning to grow tired."

"Oh! Yes, um, are you planning to kill any more students?"

The basilisk closes her eyes, shifting to a more comfortable positon. "No. I was not myself then. And I have never wished to kill them." Although Godric and his pets--the traitors...

"What do you mean?"

"The white wizard, he was controlling me. I do not know how." She knew her responses were becoming terse, but sleep was coming fast and hard. She wanted to slip into it, but if she spoke, she couldn't. "You have no need to worry. Humans are too small for food anyway."

 _"White_ wizard? Do you mean Tom Riddle? Er, Lord Voldemort?"

Ah, _that_ name she is familiar with. "Yes. He found the Chamber, which by all rights should have been impossible." Quietly, she murmurs to herself, "The charms the others put on it must have weakened." She could sense Harry's curiosity, so she elaborated. "The ...Founders trapped me. They forced me into the cave Salazar built. It was meant to be my home, but instead, became my prison." Her head is dropping forward and her voice drifting. She is so _tired._

The mediwitch is speaking now, and she sounds a bit angry. She doesn't know why.

Harry hisses something, but she's already asleep.

* * *

* * *

She dreams of a damp cave and gnawing hunger.

She's stopped hoping Salazar will save him, and she also realizes she is going to starve to death (there's a natural pool nearby, so she won't perish from dehydration). The only animals that ever come down here are rats, but now, sensing a predator, they are becoming scarce. There are no fish in the tiny pool, having been eaten some time ago.

She wishes she would die.

  


Something soft and feeling _nothing_ like the cave is all around him, and she is hot, like fire is circulating in her veins instead of blood. Her senses are _incredibly_ dulled, her face tightening and contorting-frowning. She shouldn't be able to frown.

After a brief, quiet panic attack, she remembers what has happened.

Trying to calm her magic, which has reacted negatively to her feelings, she asks Hogwarts how long she has been asleep this time. Twelve days, she replies. Madam Pomfrey (the mediwitch; Hogwarts insists she calls her by that title, telling him it is a sign of respect) believed that she had overexerted himself. She nearly bit the headmaster's head off when he suggested waking the ex-basilisk with a potion or spell. Apparently, he contacted the Ministry of Magic and informed them of the sleeping, now human, basilisk in their walls. She remembers Salazar complaining about the Ministry, but she decides to ask about it later. She just hopes she won't meet them yet.

The mediwitch's red and purple aura is on pacing in her direction, and she hears the click of her heels a few minutes before she enters her infirmary. Hogwarts, like before, warns him the headmaster is on his way. She wonders why he wasn't in the room in the first place and then how she and Headmaster Dumbledore knew she was awake. She comes to the sudden epiphany that perhaps there is a charm or spell that lets them know when she is awake. She snorts, and muses about why they didn't think about that the first time she passed out.

When the mediwitch enters, she makes a beeline for her cot, all the while speaking in that strange language. It is not soft, but she does not believe it threatening, either. Her magic holds no ill-intent, and when she begins to unwrap her bindings, though she has to hold back her overprotective, often hostile magic, she doesn't feel the need to bare her teeth at her. However, she must clench her eyes shut, yet again, from the light.

When she opens them, it is with the same results as before-white and blurry. Now, though, she can distinctly see shapes, vague and outlined very slightly by Hogwarts' black magic. Unfortunately, it does not pass. The basilisk raises a hand to her face, again, Madam Pomfrey's commentary background noise. She is gratified that, firstly, she doesn't hit himself, and, secondly, she can see the new limb _much_ better now. She must look past the coating of swirling white and green that is her aura, but she can see the dips and valleys of her palms, the shadow and wrinkles when she bends a finger.

Suddenly, Madam Pomfrey whistles, shrill and piercing. Startled, the ex-basilisk looks away from her examination to see her with her own digit next to her hand. She stares blankly at her. Lightly, she pushes her half-formed fist down and waves her own at him, first finger extended. After a few moments of her trying to get him to understand (which she doesn't), she huffs. Pointedly, she directs her finger right at her face. She moves it slowly, exaggerating the movement of her head and eyes. She understands.

By this time, some of Dumbledore's black magic is seeping into the doorway, but the ex-basilisk ignores him. It would be a few moments until the old man arrived, likely with the boy in tow.

There is no pain behind her eyeballs yet. It is encouraging.

Madam Pomfrey is shining a thin, very bright beam of light into her eyes from the tip of her wand when Headmaster Dumbledore strolls through the entryway, Harry behind him. There is another magical signature behind them, blue like the pool of water in her cave.

The headmaster conjures two chairs from thin air and they appear without a sound next to the magical creature's bed. She hears Harry sit on it, and the other unidentified wizard or witch takes the one next to the boy while the old man seems to ask Madam Pomfrey something. She replies briskly (the basilisk is proud that she can detect the emotions without knowing a word of what they are saying).

Harry hisses to her quietly while the two adults converse. "Good afternoon. How are you?"

"Well enough," she replies. The woman extinguishes the light, and she must blink at the white spots it leaves. "Who is with you?"

"Katherine Holosky. She works for the Ministry of Magic. She is here to determine if you are a threat to the wizarding community."

The basilisk scoffs.

Harry's magic is amused (she learned during her time with Salazar that a human's magic does not generally have a personality of its own. She wishes that her was the same. Her magic, _somehow,_ scoffs) and the ex-basilisk turns to squint at him, trying to see more than the sky-blue magic and shadowy figure. She doesn't succeed. "She has some questions for you, if you don't mind."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really."

Sigh. "Ask away, I suppose."

Harry speaks with the woman, and, not for the first time, the basilisk wishes she could understand them. Her magic doesn't care. "She wants to know how you transformed. Well, we all do, really."

"Hogwarts saved me." She considered lying, but Hogwarts doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she is too busy trying to make the Ministry official uncomfortable. Subtly, of course. The woman's magic is flailing, keeping Hogwarts from reaching the woman's skin. For now. "After you stabbed me," she pays no mind to Harry's suddenly in-drawn magic, guilt making it pull closer to the boy's core. Okay, that would be a lie; she basks in the guilt. "She didn't want me dead."

At the same time, Harry's magic shifts with his curiosity and confusion. "You mean--the _school?"_

Half an hour later, she is still explaining to Katherine-or, rather, Harry is-about Hogwarts. She is _incredibly_ skeptical, but she doesn't care.

Hogwarts didn't really come _alive_ until about two centuries after the castle was built (Hogwarts tells him; she only knows how to count to one hundred, courtesy of Salazar). She didn't realize there was another being hidden within her foundations-deeper, really-until fifty years after she awoke. She could not break down the cage that held the basilisk, no matter how hard she would crash herself against it. The most she could do, centuries after her imprisonment, was feed her when she was too hungry. Even then, though, it took decades to squirm enough of herself into the room to offer her sustenance. She would pluck five or so animals from the surrounding forest, usually deer or hogs. Then, her magic would be repelled; the three other founders, the _traitors_ had warded the place so well, it kept the magic of the entire school out. By the time she found her, she was more than half-starved.

Katherine is disinclined to believe her, but to the headmaster, it seems as though _everything_ makes sense now. For ten minutes after his explanation, the humans, mainly the two adults, talk amongst themselves. Bicker is a much better way of putting it, however. Hogwarts has grown bored of the Katherine's resistance some time ago, and is now playing with her magic, making the woman agitated and bit paranoid. It is quite amusing.

Being awake for fifty minutes has taken its toll. His eyes began aching some time ago, she's not sure when, exactly, and sleep is drawing near. Harry tires of the one-sided argument, and quietly hisses, "Do you have a name?"

At this, the ex-basilisk blearily opens his eyes. She looks at Harry's too-blue aura, but can't see anything else. "No."

He's surprised at that. "Really? Surely Salazar would have given you one."

"...He said he could not find a suitable name for me." She smiles. The expression feels peculiar, but not unpleasant. "For three summers, he tried to find a proper name. That man was a fool at times."

 _"Three years?"_ Harry hisses, incredulous. "It took him _three years_ to find a name?"

"No. I was found before he could, remember?"

"Oh. Yes, that is right." He is still skeptical.

"It took him longer to do certain things. Besides, he never was very good at names." A pause. "But, then, I did not like many of them."


	2. THE NEW STORY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of it.

The next time she wakes (three days later), Harry is reading from a list of names he and his friends concocted. Katherine has yet to arrive, and Harry has decided the ex-basilisk needs a name. He explains it's urgent because he is leaving for summer vacation in two days. Most of the names are rejected and Harry is beginning to grow exasperated. Katherine arrives before they are able to come to a decision.

All she wants is for the snake to repeat her previous information. So, patiently, she does. She reiterates her tale, and Harry translates word for word. Luckily this does not take as much time as before; only twenty minutes. Dumbledore asks, through Harry, about magic. So she explains.

A human's magical aura is much different from her own. She does not know if her is the same as other basilisks, as she has met none, so she cannot compare her to other giant serpents or any other magical creature. A wizard's magic is a representation of his or her emotions. If the wizard is happy, the magic is happy. But _her_ magic has its own personality. It decides things for itself, and is capable of understanding situations and act on what _it_ thinks should be done.

This clarification took the better part of an hour and the ex-basilisk was suitably agitated. So was Harry. She can feel sleep just behind her eyes, but it had not yet gripped her in its hungry maw. Madam Pomfrey, bless her purple-red soul, escorts the ministry woman out of her infirmary, and even looks ready to pull the headmaster out by his beard, but seems to think better of it and let her be.

  


"Amelia?"

"No."

"Zacharia?"

"No."

"Danielle?"

"No."

"Bob."

"…"

"Okay, okay, no need for the look…"

They have yet to find a name.

  


Harry has finally given up. He pouts, slumps into his chair. "Susan." He hisses, a last resort effort.

She is about to refuse, but Madam Pomfrey speaks at that moment. Harry lets out a loud sigh and the basilisk blinks at him. The boy's magic is sluggish, reluctant, and the basilisk thinks she knows why.

"I must leave," the black-haired boy states. "Madam Pomfrey wants you to rest."

"I understand."

Harry stands and waves goodbye.

"Harry." The boy stops and looks her. "If I am not awake by the time you leave, rouse me. I would like to see the outside again."

Of course, it doesn't occur to her until two days later that she needs to learn how to walk. Dammit.

  


Harry wakes her three hours before his departure. Dumbledore is with him, as usual, and Madam Pomfrey is _almost_ as angry as the basilisk's magic-and her magic is _not_ happy. It takes quite a bit of persuading for it not to light Harry on fire, but she manages. Barely.

"I am leaving in two hours. My friends are still packing and said they will meet me on the carriage. Can you sit up?"

Drowsily, the ex-basilisk complies, and she begins the tedious process of dragging her new legs over the bed. It is much more difficult than she imagines but is too tired to be frustrated. Once she is (more or less) upright, she takes a few moments to wake up properly. She hisses to Harry, "Carriage?" Her throat is sore because of the feeding tube Madam Pomfrey has yet to remove, but she resists the urge to cough because that will only make it worse. What she needs is water. She looks to the end table that she just notices and is delighted to find that there is a glass of water, condensation clinging to the surface.

"Yes. There are carriages that take us to the train's platform."

The basilisk does not know what a train is, but she doesn't ask. Instead, she carefully reaches for the glass, frowning in concentration. She hits the cup too hard and it wobbles threateningly, but Harry settles it before it spills. He keeps it still until the ex-basilisk is able to hold it. Wary of spilling it, she slowly brings it to her lips, using both hands, and drinks for the first time since she has become human. It is _marvelous._

Handing the cup to the boy, the basilisk begins the epic journey of standing.

It takes twenty minutes before she "gets the hang of it" and is able to stand on her own. Walking is an entirely different matter. Harry suggests she use a "wheelchair," but the basilisk curls her lip at the contraption. She insists to walk on her own. She practices for an hour before Madam Pomfrey declares enough is enough. She pulls the wheelchair in front of her and says something harshly.

"She says if you want to see me off, you will have to do it in the chair," the green-eyed boy translates sheepishly. "Honestly, Susan, it is fine if you stay here; I do not mind."

For now ignoring the name (like hell she'll be called _Susan),_ the basilisk considers the boy, reading her magic. He is lying. Harry wants her to come, and is guilty because he thinks he is being selfish. Tch. He feels guilty for _everything._ Honestly… Staring disdainfully at the chair, the basilisk decides to screw her pride. Her magic recoils at the shame, but she ignores it. Reluctantly, she sits into the contraption, being sure to show through her stiff body how displeased she is. Hogwarts is nearly beside herself with pride and it slightly pacifies her. But what really gets her is Harry's grateful and still-sorry aura.

"Thank you."

She snorts. "You shall _not_ call me _Susan."_

"Whatever you say, Susan," Harry says with a grin, magic twirling with happiness and mischief.

Madam Pomfrey takes her place behind her (she ruthlessly pulls her rebelling magic closer to her core in response to its indignant behavior) and rolls her forward. Harry is to her right and Headmaster Dumbledore on her left. The old wizard and his student talk while the basilisk greedily takes in everything she can of Hogwarts' walls.

Her perusal of the moving portraits is interrupted when Harry states, "While I am gone, you are going to learn English."

Ah. So _that's_ what this language is called.

"Am I? That will be convenient."

"No kidding. Dumbledore will choose someone to teach you, I think it will be a teacher from the school. The Ministry offered to send someone, but Dumbledore thought someone from the school would be better."

"Hm."

"Oh, and when we get to carriages, I don't think it would be a good idea to converse in Parseltounge. It is considered a dark trait and I have enough grief from Malfoy."

At this, the basilisk turns to stare at Harry with narrowed eyes. The boy isn't looking at her, instead her focus is somewhere on the wall and it must be very important for him to be watching so intently. Harry's magic is curling uncomfortably just a hair above the boy's skin, tight and guilty.

"Very well," the basilisk concedes, done with her scrutiny. Salazar told her, long ago, about that rumor. When she first heard it, she literally laughed. Honestly, wizards and their fears… "However," she raised a shaky arm and pointed at her partner in warning, "if someone speaks to me, I will _not_ hesitate to reply. Besides," she continues, arm dropping to the armrest and lips quirking, "it will be amusing to see their reactions."

Outside is a new world. The sunlight is _divine_ and the basilisk tips her head to its warmth, inhaling the free, clean air. The feeding tube wriggles warning, but she is adept at ignoring it now. She looks about as best she can through the white fog that has yet to disappear. Unfortunately, she can only see as far as Headmaster Dumbledore before the fog obscures everything within sight. However, natural magic is everywhere. It shapes into huge, darkly bright trees and lighter, twittering grass. Ants and things that look like ants scamper across magic-coated rocks. The path they are traveling is imbued with left-over magic from thousands of students and teachers, coming and going. Different coils have twined together, blue, white, black, pink, red, purple, all combined to make one ever-moving trail.

In the distance, there is a forest. She cannot see the physical shape of it, but she can see the imposing, twitching white magic that forms into distorted shapes that resemble something like trees. But they are too long, too bent and twisted. There are other things that flicker through the dangerous magic, wrapping themselves in it and feeding from it; it, in turn, feeds from them. She recognizes this quiet forest-the Forbidden Forest. It is as seductive now as it used to be when she was a hatchling, even in this semi-human form. She feels its song, a deep and rocking melody, not made of sound but she does not know how else to describe the "sound." It does not allow one to ignore it. It sings of power and shelter and protection.

But she turns away from the temptations it offers, focusing ahead of her; she will visits the forest later, when she can. The pathway is empty except for the four of them, which the ex-basilisk is thankful for; she doesn't think she's ready for bigger crowds yet. The chair she was forced in wobbles against the uneven ground and pebbles, and she resorts to gripping its arms in fear of falling. The headmaster unsheathes his wand and, with a small, concentrated burst of dark, oily-colored magic, the wheels nearly glide above the dirt.

The ex-basilisk blinks at the man. Headmaster Dumbledore, eyes twinkling (how is that _possible?)_ , smiles warmly at her and winks a wrinkled eye.

* * *

* * *

Creatures made almost entirely of magic are pulling the carriages Harry mentioned. The color of their souls is a nearly blinding white, shining through the haze that invades her vision. She actually needs to squint against it. Their unique magic travels thickly through the creatures' veins, forming something frightening-looking and four-legged.

Most of the carriages are gone; only three remain. Inside, the basilisk can sense two magical signatures, most likely that of Harry's friends.

Only Headmaster Dumbledore seems to notice the animals. With a wistful, bitter smile, the old man strokes one of them along its muzzle. The creature responds by pricking its ears.

"Okay," Harry hisses, "so this goodbye. For now." Abruptly, he says, "Darlene?"

"No."

Small pause. "Doom."

The basilisk considers this, but ultimately declines.

"Harry," Headmaster Dumbledore interjects, amusement in his tone.

The boy responds in English, sheepishly, then he says to the basilisk, "I suppose I shall see you next year, yes?"

"I suppose." Awkwardly, the snake drops her gaze, already missing the conversations she had with Harry. Hogwarts can do nothing to help, so she hovers sadly about. She sighs heavily, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Susan it is.”

Harry grins. He says goodbye one more time, then boards the carriage. The animal trots away when the door is securely shut. The basilisk-Susan-prepares herself for a long, boring summer.

  


Three days later, when the basilisk awakes, the headmaster has another companion. Katherine is with him, as usual, but so is another wizard Susan is unfamiliar with. Her vision has improved in the three days she has slept, her body apparently deciding to finally heal the wounds her magic cannot. What she sees now is quite different from her basilisk's eyesight; before, she mainly saw magic, her surroundings "black and white." Now, however, she sees a multitude of new colors, most of which she is familiar with only through the hues of magic she caught glimpses of from her prison and when Voldemort made her go on those killing sprees.

The fog that Susan has become so familiar with is thinner now, easier to see through. It has not gone, she still cannot see further than her arm if she stretches it out, but she can discern _more_ in the bubble of clear air. Holding her hand to her face, she can see the little details, the bulging veins on the back, the crease of the finger's joints when she clenches the hand into a fist. The top of her hand is very dark, just a shade lighter than Dumbledore's mostly-black soul, but the palm and inside of hi fingers are a creamy color, and it is very interesting to stare at. It is smooth, too, but she doesn't really have anything to compare it with. Already, she's made a habit of rubbing the pad of the thumb against the nail of a finger. It's a completely foreign sensation but strangely addicting.

Madam Pomfrey swoops upon Dumbledore and his two companions like a cat, hackles raised and nearly hissing at them in anger. She suspects it is the Ministry woman who rattles the medi-witch so. She senses the way Madam Pomfrey's magic condenses, preparing for defense or attack, and Katherine's doing the same in response. Dumbledore says something, very calmly, as though trying to calm two snarling dogs. Susan sees his magic literally smooth the spikes of angry auras, but Madam Pomfrey's is not appeased. She says something about Susan, she heard her name, and she squints through the murk that surrounds him, curious, but all she can see is the magic of the four humans. As Madam Pomfrey stalks away, her magic bites Katherine's. The Ministry woman's cringes, hurt, but holds its ground, bristling with indignation.

Through the entire thing, the new wizard is quiet, his golden-hued magic amused. He shuffles to the right Susan's bed to the point where his vague shape becomes visible. What the ex-basilisk sees is a tiny figure, scarcely a few inches taller than the cot. He says something in a high, squeaky voice directly to Susan. The ex-basilisk blinks at his general direction (he's too far away to see where his face is; the wizard looks like a gray, squat blob) in response. She opens her mouth to ask Hogwarts what the man said, but, sensing her question, she interjects. She tells herhe must learn on her own, without the help of the school.

She shuts her mouth with a snap, fuming. Why? How in Merlin's name is going to learn a completely new language? She almost hisses at the little man, just to see him squirm. But Hogwarts cuffs heron the back of her head, chiding him. This entire thing was quick, only about five seconds, but Susan senses the golden-souled man's interest piqued. Susan wonders how much he saw.

The ex-basilisk tenses, watching as a weathered, old hand emerges from the fog. Her anger is swapped for suspicion as the man's hand slowly reaches her person. She lifts her lips and glares, hoping the little wizard will get the message and stop. He doesn't. He goes so far as to tap Susan's chest briefly, then says, "Susan." The way he says her name is peculiar, a far different accent than when Harry or herself says it. Then, he gestures to himself. "Filius." He repeats this.

Susan tries to imitate the way he speaks, but she cannot pronounce them, even her own name. Frustrated, she sinks back into her pillows. Filius, though, is anything but discouraged. Rather, he starts the process again, being sure to carefully articulate the vowels and syllables. He is doing so with such enthusiasm that Susan cannot help but continue as well.

Filius is an exemplary scholar. He is excitable, Susan's magic likes him, and he is patient to the point of rivaling Hogwarts (and she can take _decades_ to anger). Susan gets frustrated easily, and she has endless troubles enunciating the simplest vowels. Through the following weeks, Filius would babble, regardless of whether or not Susan understands a word (which she doesn't at first, Hogwarts _still_ refusing to help, though not without guilt). Dumbledore and Katherine follow him, and sometimes talk amongst themselves while Susan struggles with pronouncing different words.

Her vision is slowly improving. In two weeks, she is able to analyze the entirety of the hospital wing, see what the humans look like. Madam Pomfrey is obviously pleased with her progress, and sometimes she would speak with him. She would have no idea what she's saying, but listen attentively anyway. Once, she sat with her and named different potions, and, she suspects, its effects. She would make her repeat the names (which sometimes took minutes, sometimes nearly an hour) and make certain she knew where they were.

"Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

Susan obediently points at the farthest cabinet, to the right of herself and near her office.

"Pepperup?"

Directly to the previously mentioned's left.

"Skele-Gro?"

And so on for typically an hour.

* * *

* * *

After two weeks, Madam Pomfrey decides she needs to learn to walk. She is developing a regular sleeping pattern with an average of twelve hours. She is allowed to drink on her own. Hogwarts tells herthat if she keeps this schedule, she will be deemed healthy and the feeding tube will (FINALLY) be removed. She now knows simple, necessary words such as "yes," and "no," and how to introduce herself as well as other phrases and vocabulary, but not enough for a conversation of any sort.

Madam Pomfrey helps her with her second attempt at walking. She grips her forearm as she finds her balance. Filius, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Katherine are with her. They are talking excitedly, no doubt offering advice, and Susan can't help but reply in Parseltongue. They can't understand a word and it only incites them further. Madam Pomfrey eventually snaps at all of them and they quiet a bit, but the room is filled with happy, twirling magic, Susan's own intermingling.

Holding her arm like a lifeline, Susan takes a step forward. She looses her balance instantly and lands flat on her face.

It becomes apparent that she has _no_ coordination. Even as a basilisk, she recalls, she would knock things over by accident (mostly Salazar, the poor man) or misjudge a distance and (somehow) fall. This was exceptionally confusing, as Susan had no arms or legs to entangle. And now, with a body she knew next to-no, nothing about, she was a walking _deathtrap_. By the end of the day, she is surprised she hasn't broken her neck and died yet. Even the hour of practice-walking with Harry gave her more bruises than skin.

Along with learning to walk on her own, she is also still mastering English. It is slow going, and Hogwarts tries not to assist when she can help it. Almost as soon as Harry left, two weeks ago, she has been learning. Filius is incredibly patient and has no qualms about "acting it out." He also brings "flashcards" with pictures on them, the written word posted in a simple script on the bottom. He tells Susan the word of each corresponding photo. Most of the pictures are of things she's never seen before, such as a "cat" grooming itself or an "owl" blinking calmly at herfrom its perch on a tree branch. She has seen "rats" only because they would scamper into her cave and die from looking into her eyes and she would then eat them.

Headmaster Dumbledore visits every day, sometimes for two hours, sometimes for five minutes. Katherine, however, is with herall the time, accompanying Filius and taking notes on a clipboard she has taken to carrying with her. Hogwarts has become bored of playing with her, but even so, the woman's paranoia has not faded. Susan is growing impatient of her presence.

As well as learning to speak English, Filius has decided Susan must read and write. Katherine has expressed her doubts on the success of this through her dubious magic and quiet mutterings. Susan doesn't know what she says, but she knows that it is not positive. Filius does his best to ignore her, but he must catch her sour remarks because his foreign magic bubbles with anger.

Salazar attempted to teach her this once, with little success. He would magic the same alphabet Susan's looking at now, making the letters float in midair with no supports or board. Unfortunately, Susan was unable to understand a thing of it. Now, however, Salazar's short-lived lessons are helping her to comprehend the written word.

On the blackboard Filius conjured is the alphabet. There are two rows of letters, uppercase and lowercase. Susan does not understand the difference and Hogwarts' answers do not make sense to him, but she dutifully copies the letters onto the smaller, handheld chalkboard she was given. It is sloppily written, more like squiggles, but Filius is so enthused about Susan's progress he topples right off the stack of books he was using to reach the blackboard.

Just like all the previous lessons, Filius points to a letter and imitates the sound, gesturing for Susan to do the same. Most of them are _unbelievably_ difficult, and, when she first began learning, it took hours to get through half of the alphabet. She and Filius were forced to stop when Madam Pomfrey glanced out the window, saw the sun had set (they began about three hours before midday, when the sun is highest) and promptly screeched at Filius, who scuttled out of the room as fast as his tiny legs could take him and Susan half-expected her to hurl potions at his back. Then, she turned to Susan.

It was the single most terrifying moment of her life. The fact that she couldn't understand her only made it worse.

  


Two weeks and three days after Harry's departure, Madam Pomfrey decides Susan will be removed of her feeding tube. She can't Banish it, since that may remove some very important organs too, like her stomach. Besides which, her magic (being the unreasonable, overprotective thing it is) flat out refuses to have any sort of other magic afflicting its host. Susan suspects that even if it knew what the humans were saying it still wouldn't allow any spells cast on her (like Susan, it is learning this strange language. It knows what is happening around them and is trying to grasp some understanding so it does not rely solely on Susan and Hogwarts for translations. Susan is "getting the hang of it" faster than her magic, which it is resentful about).

Madam Pomfrey must pull it out by hand. At first, there is much arguing between the medi-witch and herself which is pointless because neither could understand what the other was saying. Eventually, Hogwarts cracks and explains the situation. The removal is bordering on painful and Susan reflexively retches afterward but Madam Pomfrey doesn't so much as blink. With a flick of her wand, the bile vanishes as if it were never there. She wipes her mouth, grimacing.

Her first meal looks a lot like the liquefied food in the feeding bag. On a tray sits a single soup dish-a shining white bowl filled halfway with thin, creamy soup-and a glass of water. A utensil-"Spoon" Madam Pomfrey tells him-is handed to him. "Eat," she says. Guessing she means for her to eat, she glances at the "spoon," wondering what to do with it. She's hungry, mouth salivating as the smell of the soup-dulled though it is-reaches him. She begins to place the silverware down, so as to hold the bowl and gulp it down from its brim. Filius tuts, and plucks the "spoon" from Susan's grasp. He dips the curved part into the broth and brings it to his mouth, then, with a slurp, downs it. He returns the spoon to Susan and the ex-basilisk imitates the little wizard. After a few tries, she gets it successfully and with only a few spills.

Madam Pomfrey makes her drink the entire bowl and the water, but she doesn't mind. She can't really remember a time, except after she met Harry, that she hasn't woken up so hungry she can't think straight, eating whatever poor beast Hogwarts managed to squeeze in, then going straight back to sleep. Most times, she was asleep long enough for Hogwarts to prepare something big enough to satiate him, but sometimes, she would make due with a single boar.

She doesn't know how to describe the soup's taste, so she won't. It's hot, hotter than the prey Hogwarts got for him, but she doesn't care; she likes the heat. With a satisfied sigh, she returns the bowl to its tray, emptying the water next.

Stomach full and feeling drowsy, Susan leans against the railing of her bed, debating whether or not to remove the blankets. Being below the lake and surrounded by cool water, the dungeons are cold all the time. Salazar thought ahead and placed temporary warming charms on the walls, floor, and ceiling of Susan's cave. He was studying runes to keep the room permanently warm, suitable for a cold-blooded being. Salazar was brilliant, but he was no Rowena Ravenclaw.

Salazar admitted he hadn't studied nearly as much as he should have on rune magic. It is a complicated branch of magic that can take a lifetime to master and even the simplest take years to work, he said.

A year after Susan hatched, Salazar etched the runes onto the stone floor of the cave (this actually took ten months; he had to be absolutely positive nothing was out of place-not a crack at the edges, and, no he did not do this with any sort of magic. When asked, he stated, "Magic cannot always do what blood, sweat, and tears can." Not to mention, he had students to teach and suspicions to deflect). Then, he poured his magic into it.

"How long will this take?" Susan asked.

"This must be precise. Any less than necessary, the runes will be useless and I must etch them into a different area. Any more, it is likely to explode and take half the school in a blaze that rivals Fiendfire."

"Oh. May I be of any assistance?"

"Why, yes. I would be _delighted_ if you could withhold yourself from venturing near and, however accidentally, colliding into me. It would be _dreadful_ if your inelegant self ruins this and causes the entirety of Hogwarts to go up in flames."

Salazar finished the runes the next month. They were damaged a year later, during the duel between the founders when Susan was discovered. They steadily lost power until, three decades later, stopped working entirely. Being warm was soon a memory associated with the happy times of her life with Salazar.

Susan decides to pull the blankets to her chin and she falls asleep.

* * *

* * *

Like all basilisks, Susan was hatched beneath _ka hessesha_ , a toad. Apparently, it doesn't matter if both parents are female, because she was mothered by both a hen and a toad. The hen died before she was hatched, from old age, Salazar told her. "Just as well," he admitted. "If not from simple old age, illness. This filthy dungeon will probably do me in as well." Her toad mother, however, lived for forty years. She was quite attached to her and her human father. Except to eat, she stayed with either himself or Salazar at all times. The wizard often used her for experiments, and Susan supposed her human used one too many experimental potions on the poor amphibian and that would explain her curious behavior.

 _Veeseenthea_ , mother in Parseltongue, was earthy-toned in both the physical sense and the magical. She was the average size and weight of her species-she knew this because on her outings with Salazar, they would study all the wildlife her father could capture without the aid of magic. Once, she even saw a horse. She was small then, hardly taller than Salazar even when she reared, so she was more "spooked" by the mammal than it of her.

When she died, it was like a part of Susan went with her, just as a part went with Salazar.

  


When she wakes, there is a brown she-toad sleeping on her chest.

Susan blinks at her. She doesn't wake. She blinks again. Her magic feels familiar, but she is not completely sure why. Huffing, she goes back to sleep.

She is still there when Madam Pomfrey wakes her, only this time she is also awake. They stare at each other blankly (her magic stirs behind her eyes, but can do nothing else, which, of course, only makes it angry). She doesn't look away as Filius shuffles to her bedside.

"Good morning," the little man squeaks.

Susan tries to repeat the greeting, but has trouble pronouncing the words. Filius patiently and thoroughly assists her until Susan can say it and be understood (which is quite a feat). The toad croaks. She squints at her, and she looks her in the eye in what she swears is a challenging manner. Eyes widening, she hisses, " _Veeseenthea_?" Her eyes slant and her minuscule magic warms.

  


Weeks pass and suddenly it is time for her to be sorted, to meet the other young humans. Susan follows Professor McGonagall to the entrance, where the other first years will be. _Veeseenthea_ is in her grasp because she'd rather hold her than have other first years step on her. She hears the excited murmurs and whispers of the new students and does her best to ignore the nervous twisting in her gut. The stern witch leads her around a corner, and then down the stairs, where she finally sees the little humans. Nearly all chatter stops when they catch sight of Professor McGonagall. She gestures for Susan to join the others.

Holding _Veeseenthea_ more securely against her, she schools her features carefully, hoping none of her nerves are showing on her face. She strides confidently to the side of the group that has calmer magic. They look at her curiously, no doubt wondering why she was with the teacher, but make no move to ask.

"Good evening," Professor McGonagall greets tersely. "Follow me to be sorted, please." And, with that, she turns with a magnificent swish of her cloak and strides away, the others following nervously.

"Hello," says a boy to Susan's right. He is paler than the ex-basilisk, but she notices that not many people have Susan's dark skin. His eyes are an odd shade of blue, one she can't place, and his hair is shaggy and an almost-blonde. He is the same size of Susan, too, which she can't help but find disappointing. She misses being bigger than everything.

"Hi," Susan carefully responds, being sure to pronounce the greeting as thoroughly she can. Even so, it comes out breathy and a bit (as Professor Flitwick tells her) creepy.

"Were you on the train?" the boy asks.

The ex-basilisk shakes her head.

"Oh." For a moment, his magic shifts uncomfortably. Then it abruptly becomes excited yet again. "Well, there were these _things_ there. I didn't see them, but I could feel them. They felt, I dunno, _cold_ , you know?"

Honestly, Susan is rather proud she understands _half_ of that. English is still tricky for her to understand and this boy spoke so quickly, Susan was unprepared. As it is, the ex-basilisk only nods and pretends she knows exactly what her new year mate said. Which she didn't.

At the top of the stairs, the human child changes the subject. "My name's Aden. Aden Jolask."

Ah, something she knows! "Susan Evans." Very heavily accented and probably sounds more like "Sssssuuun E'aannssss," but oh well.

Aden talks the entire walk to the Great Hall, but Susan doesn't really mind. The human doesn't seem to notice that his companion never contributes to the conversation. When they got to the Great Hall, the first years _ooh_ and _aahhh_ at the floating candles and the enchanted ceiling. Professor Flitwick catches Susan's eye and waves excitedly to her. The ex-basilisk returns the gesture. In front of the staff table, sitting on a wooden stool, is a hat with a peculiar tear across its front. The hat itself is not remarkable, but its _magic_ is. Not even considering that ordinary objects do not typically have magic, _this_ one has four different magical signatures.

Those signatures feel very familiar as well. Quite like four long-dead wizards…

Susan looks for Harry, stretching her senses for her unique two-colored magic and completely ignoring the other, very quiet source waiting patiently on the stool. But he is nowhere in the Hall.

"Susan?" The ex-basilisk hums to show she's listening. "What house do you want to be put in?"

"Slytherin," she answers once she comprehends the question. Definitely not Gryffindor, no matter if Harry's there.

Aden blinks at him. "Hm. I'm not really partial to anything, but my brother's Ravenclaw. He's a fifth-year."

Aden wishes to be a Ravenclaw? Susan is fairly sure she mistranslated. Her mother croaks at her and she realizes she is holding her a bit too tight. She relaxes her grip, petting her apologetically. She quiets.

McGonagall explains about the Sorting Hat and calls names to be sorted.

  


" _Well, well, what do we have here_?"

Immediately, Susan's magic reaches to rip apart its soul for daring to penetrate its snake. Hogwarts is expecting this, however, and she stops it before the situation gets out of hand, reprimanding Susan for not doing the same. She gets the distinct feeling the hat is mentally raising its eyebrows.

" _No need for that_ ," it grumbles, " _I'm only to determine where you'll be placed. However, to do that, I'll need a peek at your mind."_

Susan hisses irately. The hat chuckles and begins to creep into her mind, being sure to avoid most of her memories. Even so, it knows instantly what Susan really is.

 _"Merlin's great hairy balls!"_ It exclaims. _"Salazar'd sooner come back from the grave and_ burn my every, individual seam _than see_ you _in another's House! SLYTHERIN!"_ The sudden audible screech nearly made Susan fall off the stool. Before it was pulled away, it mumbles in her head, _"A shame-you'd make an excellent Ravenclaw."_

Professor McGonagall points her to the table with the green banner and silver snake. She decides to sit next to another first year (she knows because she remembers her magical signature) whose magic is calm, if a bit untrained. The girl has a round face, and her skin is darker than Aden's but lighter than Susan's. When she glances over at the ex-basilisk, Susan notices her eyes are a very light shade of brown. It contrasts quite a bit with her tan face and dark hair, which brushes her eyebrows and flows over her ears. This strange girl reminds Susan of Salazar, with her calm, collected magic and sly, cool eyes, even if their color is drastically different.

Deciding to try out her mediocre English, she says, "Good evening," once again pronouncing it slowly and carefully.

The dark-haired girl blinks at her, and she seems to consider Susan's slim frame and halting, slow English.

"Hello." She says, politely. "Are you foreign?"

Commence blank stare.

Hogwarts literally sighs and helps to translate. Susan blinks in understanding. "Ah, yes." Then, the ex-basilisk places her elbow on the table (hitting it hard first; the plates and goblets clink from the force) and smartly puts her chin in the palm of her hand (Hah! She doesn't miss!). She watches the rest of the sorting and when Aden is called, she goes to the Hufflepuff table. There is no sign of Harry. Susan hopes the boy isn't dead, because then this would be an _incredibly_ boring year.


End file.
